


Four of a Kind

by ami_ven



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: X-Wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole
Genre: Community: wraithsquadron, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 08:19:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17618813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ami_ven/pseuds/ami_ven
Summary: “The four of us, we can handle anything.”





	Four of a Kind

**Author's Note:**

> Written for LJ community "wraithsquadron" fic-a-thon 2018/2019, prompt - Fab Four, “Rare as true love, true friendship is rarer” (Jean de la Fontaine)

In the split-second after his X-Wing dropped from hyperspace, Wedge knew something was wrong, even before a cacophony of alarms began blaring in his cockpit.

He was still scanning his read-outs when the other three members of his unit appeared in space behind him – Tycho, still tucked in at his six; Hobbie keeping pace a hundred meters back; and Janson, whose X-Wing immediately listed out of formation toward the blue-green planet below.

“Three, what’s your status?” snapped Wedge. They hadn’t been using callsigns, since this was supposed to have been a quick trip from one New Republic base to another, but some habits never died at all.

“ _Every alarm is going off and I can’t tell what’s actually broken_ ,” said Janson’s voice, just as Wedge’s own alarms began to taper off. 

“ _There’s no external damage to his fighter_ ,” reported Hobbie. “ _And my systems are acting up, too._ ”

“ _Same here_ ,” Tycho added. “ _Three, can you maneuver?_ ”

“ _Not enough to avoid that planet_ ,” said Janson. “ _My astromech’s not responding, either._ ”

Wedge looked at the planet they were rapidly approaching. “Then we go down with you,” he said, firmly.

“ _Boss, you can’t—_ ”

“Shut up, Three. Two, are you good?”

“ _Good enough_ ,” Tycho replied.

“Good,” Wedge repeated. “Four, stay with Three. Two and I will scout ahead.”

“ _On your six, Lead_ ,” said Tycho, as Hobbie sent a double-click as confirmation.

Their two ships sped up toward the planet, and the edges of Wedge’s cockpit glowed red as they entered the atmosphere. When it faded, they were flying over a jungle, dotted with rocky mesas that broke up through the trees.

“There doesn’t seem to be a good place to land,” said Wedge, peering out of his cockpit canopy.

“ _Then we’re going to have to find a bad place_ ,” said Janson.

A fireball streaked above them – Janson’s X-Wing, now on fire.

“ _Definitely seeing external damage now_ ,” said Hobbie.

“ _I’ve lost all maneuverability_ ,” added Janson. “ _I’m going down, boss, and hard. Any advice?_ ”

“Don’t hit the rocks,” said Wedge.

“ _Yeah, I’ll just—_ ” Janson broke off as something on the starboard side of his fighter exploded, tilting the craft dangerously to one side. “ _Wedge!_ ”

“Punch out, Wes!”

Wedge didn’t know if Janson had heard him, but a moment later, the canopy of his X-Wing flew off and his ejector seat shot upward, held aloft by its repulsars – until it wasn’t. The seat fell alarmingly, then rose again, dipped again, then disappeared into the trees.

“Hobbie, set down as near to him as you can,” ordered Wedge. “Tycho, with me, we’re finding a place to set up camp.”

“ _On it, boss_ ,” said Hobbie.

Wedge watched him angle over the trees where Janson had disappeared, then turned his fighter in the other direction, towards an outcropping of rock a few hundred meters away. 

There was a clearing, between the cliff and the trees, just wide enough for two X-Wings to land. Wedge’s landing gear sent up another flurry of alarms, but operated well enough to set him down safely, and he set Gate to running a deep scan of all systems.

The humidity hit him as soon as he popped the canopy seal, but Wedge ignored it, shedding his life-support gear as quickly as he could. He scrambled down his fighter’s S-foil and met Tycho at the bottom, just as an explosion sounded in the jungle ahead.

They shared a look, then broke into a run. It was easy to follow the smoke and burning foliage to the spot where Janson’s X-Wing had crashed, even before they could hear Hobbie up ahead, shouting his name.

Janson’s ejection seat had landed in a tree ahead, just high enough to be a very nasty landing if he fell and precarious enough that a fall seemed likely. He didn’t move as they got closer, head and limbs hanging limply. The tree was just ahead of the wreck of his X-Wing, threatening to catch fire any moment.

“He’s out cold,” said Wedge. “Tycho, can you…?”

“On it,” his wingman replied. The tree’s rough bark made for good climbing, and he was able to scale to a branch close enough to reach Janson’s crash webbing. “Ready?”

He released the catch and Janson fell to where Wedge and Hobbie were waiting below. He gave a low moan when they caught him, then went limp again.

“We’d better get away from Wes’s fighter,” said Tycho, dropping back down beside them. “That explosion earlier didn’t sound like it was all of the fuel.”

“Of course you’d know that,” said Hobbie, because Janson wasn’t awake to say it himself, but it wasn’t quite the same – and they had just cleared the trees, their X-Wings in sight, when another explosion shook the ground behind them.

Janson stirred as they set him down under the S-foil of Wedge’s fighter, leaning on the duffel they’d pulled from the hold. “Hey,” he said, blinking. “What happened.”

“You crashed,” said Hobbie.

“I ejected,” Janson protested.

“You crashed that, too,” said Wedge. “How do you feel?”

“Like I crashed.”

“We need to get your flight suit off,” said Tycho, always the practical one. “It doesn’t look like you’re bleeding anywhere, but that’s a hell of a bruise on your forehead, which isn’t a good sign for the rest of you.”

“I’ll get our medical kits,” Wedge offered.

By the time he returned, Janson was more alert, wincing as Tycho poked experimentally at his ribs.

“Nothing broken,” the Alderaanian reported. “But I don’t like the look of this.”

“Gee, thanks,” drawled Janson.

Hobbie looked up at the two fighters. “I came down pretty hard, too,” he said. “Are either of you operational?”

“I had my astromech start sending out a distress signal,” said Tycho. “But with the way my systems were acting up, I can’t be sure it went through.”

“Not to mention, we have no idea where we are,” Hobbie added. “Even if we did trust our ships – and by ‘our’ I mean ‘your’ because mine crashed only slightly less hard than Wes’s – we’re probably lightyears from nowhere without enough fuel to get anywhere.”

“There’s that cheerfulness we expect from you, Hobbie,” wheezed Janson.

“At the very least, someone will realize we’re missing,” Tycho said, reassuringly. “We’re due at the new base in a little less than a standard hour. And when we don’t show up, they’ll contact Starfighter Command, and they’ll send someone after us.”

“They’ll send Iella and Winter after us,” Wedge corrected. “We’ll have you to a real medical facility in no time, Wes.”

Janson laughed, then winced. “Don’t make me laugh.”

Wedge and Tycho shared a concerned look over his head, but Hobbie patted Janson’s shoulder and said, “No promises.”

“You should eat something,” Wedge added. He pulled a ration pack from his duffel and handed it to Hobbie. “Tycho?”

His wingman followed him a few meters away, “Something on your mind, boss?”

“We came down on the day side of the terminus,” he said. “But we don’t know how long days are on this planet, or how cold they’ll get. If we’re really stuck here…”

“We can handle it,” Tycho said, with an encouraging smile. “The four of us, we can handle anything.”

Wedge managed a smile back. “Sure.”

The jungle where they’d crashed was warm during the daylight, and as the sun went down, the temperature didn’t drop too far. The night was clear, so it seemed to make more sense to set up camp under Wedge and Tycho’s X-Wings than try to get Janson up into one of the cockpits.

It wasn’t cold enough to need a fire for warmth through the night, but they still put their bedrolls close together, under the camouflage tarps they’d rigged as a tent.

“Hey,” Janson said, softly.

“You okay, Wes?” said Hobbie.

“Yes,” he said. “Well, no, I’m not any better than before. But look… we don’t know if any of our distress signals got through. We don’t know if anyone’s coming. So, if this is it, if I’m not going to make it… I’d want to be with you guys.”

“Wes…” said Wedge, sitting up to look at him.

“No, I’m being serious. That’s rare, I know, so you should enjoy it while it lasts.”

“ _Wes…_ ”

“I’ve never had anybody who understood me like you do. The four of us together, we can do anything.”

“That’s what Tycho said about this situation,” Wedge said, with a smile. “We’ll get you home, Wes.”

“I know you’ll try,” he said. “But if you don’t… We had a good run. I don’t blame you for any of this.” 

“Don’t talk like that,” said Hobbie.

“We must be in trouble if _you’re_ being the positive one.”

“You’re not going to die, Wes,” Tycho said, firmly.

“We’re all going to die eventually,” he mumbled. “Is it getting colder?”

Wedge shifted closer to him. “Maybe a little,” he lied, as the other two joined them. “The wind is picking up.”

“Is that what that sound is?” Janson asked. “I thought it sounded like repulsars.”

“Oh, Force, he’s hallucinating,” muttered Hobbie.

“No, listen,” said Tycho.

They all fell silent – and heard the faint roar of fighter engines, growing louder. Seconds later, the distinctive shapes of two X-Wings flew overhead. 

“Hey!” yelled Wedge, then called to his astromech, “Gate! Turn on the lights!”

His own X-Wing lit up and the others returned, circling overhead before their lights dipped behind the trees to land.

“Wedge!” called a voice, a moment later.

Tycho grinned. “That’s Luke.”

“Yes, it is,” Wedge agreed.

When the Jedi Master appeared, he wasn’t alone – “Corran!” said Hobbie. “What are you doing here?”

“We felt your distress in the Force,” said Luke. “It took us a while to track you down and—”

“You can explain later,” Tycho interrupted. “Wes is hurt.”

“Mirax is in orbit with the _Skate_ ,” said Corran. “I’ll tell her to find a place to land. How bad is he?”

“He can hear you,” grumbled Janson. “I’m fine.”

Hobbie let out something that might have been a laugh. “A second ago, you were dying.”

“A second ago, we didn’t have a ride,” Janson said.

Corran stepped away, raising his comlink to call his wife. When Wedge stood, intending to confer with Luke, Janson grabbed his sleeve.

“Wes?”

“In case I forget to say it later… Thanks.”

Wedge squeezed his shoulder. “We know.”

THE END


End file.
